


Devilish Devotion

by LadyMuzzMuzz



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Minor Angst, Relationship Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMuzzMuzz/pseuds/LadyMuzzMuzz
Summary: A collection of romantic short stories, located in no particular universe.  Many are sent in as prompts by followers.
Relationships: Dante/Reader, Nero (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 180





	1. Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping? Vergil x Reader

**Author's Note:**

> Asked by the lovely Lachesissora! Set Post DMC5.

You didn’t know what to make your boyfriend, Vergil. In the past four months you’d been dating him, you’d accepted that the man wasn’t very good with any PDA’s, not even in private. Dante had given you the scoop of why he was like the way he was, that he’d been through a lot, and that you’d have to be patient in your relationship.

And you had, you’d taken baby steps, first by reading together, then going out for coffee, and then watching movies together, helping him catch up on all types of media that he’d missed over the decades.

And he’d reciprocated, he’d held your hand, gently embraced you, stroked your cheek, and even holding you as you slept (You had to tell Dante to shut up when he asked if you had taken THAT to the next level, no you hadn’t) It was like he was relearning how to be human, one affectionate gesture at a time.

And yet, he hadn’t kissed you, not on the lips, nor forehead, not even on the hand. You’d chalked it up to it being a bridge that you two would eventually cross, when he felt ready to. You weren’t going to push him into something that he wasn’t comfortable with.

And yet…. Five nights ago, while you were half asleep, you swore you felt his lips gently on your forehead. You’d assumed it was just a dream, a flight of fancy that your mind had made up, to give you what you so desperately craved.

But then it happened the next night, the unmistakable feeling of lips pressed against your cheek, and then the night after that, a kiss planted on your bare shoulder. It was getting to the point that you were having trouble sleeping, both from looking forward to where he would kiss you next, and frustrated that while he had no problems kissing you while he thought you were asleep, he couldn’t bring himself to do so while you were conscious. And now these feelings (along with the lack of sleep) were affecting your mood.

So you sat on the opposite end of the couch as him that day, stewing in your thoughts as you tried to read a novel.

“Are you alright?” his voice entered into your foggy mind.

“I’m fine,” you answered curtly, refusing to make eye contact.

“Doubtful, you’ve been reading the same page for five minutes.” You blinked, looking at the book, before begrudgingly agreeing that, yes… he was right. You actually didn’t remember anything that took place in this chapter.

“Are you feeling unwell? I’m not familiar with human illnesses but…” he got up to place his hand on your forehead.

“Vergil,” you asked before he could reach you, “Why do you only kiss me while I’m sleeping?”

His hand froze, his whole body froze at your question. Finally, you worked up the courage to look him in the eye.

You half expected him to deny, or leave the room, but instead to your surprise, he slowly sat back down, this time close enough so he could tentatively rest his hand on your knee.

“Dante has… filled you in on certain things I have experienced in my lifetime, correct?”

You nodded “He didn’t give specifics, but he told me you’d been through a lot” His fingers fidgeted, and you placed your hand on top of his to steady them.

“When I was in.. captivity… Mundus would play tricks with my mind, showing me scenes, people who I had cared for in my past, before ripping the illusion away when I attempted any type of affection with them.” The air was silent, tense as you let him speak at his own pace. “Often, he would allow them to linger for a few moments, for them to blame me for their demise, and then I would be yanked back into my hellish existence. So… that is what frightens me, that this is all another trick, and illusion, and if I do anything more with you awake, it’ll all dissolve. My new life, my brother, my son...and you.”

Your heart broke at his confession, and your hand gently stroked his cheek. “Vergil,” you smiled, “I’m not an illusion, I’m not going anywhere, and I can prove it.”

Slowly, you pulled yourself closer to him, and ever so gently, your lips brushed against his, for a brief moment. “I’m real. This is real.”

He pulled back for a moment, a final last check for the truth in your eyes, before suddenly he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. 

He now knew he wasn’t in Hell, on the contrary, it was more like Heaven.


	2. Into the Ball Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sent in by a Nonnie:**
> 
> _Hey, idea: Dante’s S/O comes home one day to find DMC empty. Strange, Dante’s normally at his desk. Maybe he’s still in bed or something? As soon as she opens the door to their bedroom she sees the idiocy Dante’s been getting up to. Their bedroom has been turned into a ball pit. And Dante is laying there naked amongst the balls all seductive with a rose in his mouth. When she doesn’t jump in he flirtatiously throws a ball at her, trying to entice her. Good thing she’s moronsexual._

It had been a shitty day at work, shitty customers, shitty boss, and some shitty co-worker had eaten your lunch. So, all you wanted to do when you got home was to shove some junk food in your mouth, have a long, hot shower, and fall into bed, with or without your boyfriend.  
  


You got to Devil May Cry, and noticed Caviler parked outside, indicating that Dante was there, but when you walked inside, he was no where to be seen. Not at his desk, nor at the pool table, nor in the kitchen eating your (hidden) stash of chips. Usually, if he wasn’t busy, or out on a job, he’d be there, wrapping you in a hug, but not today…Weird

But as you checked the trophy room, you heard the strangest thing. What sounded …like high quality water bottles being knocked together, and the unmistakable sound of Dante giggling. The sound was coming directly from above, which was the master bedroom.

So, perplexed, you walked up the steps, and towards the bedroom, which was closed. Odd, that usually meant Dante was sleeping, but that sound…? Hesitantly, you opened the door, so you wouldn’t awaken him if he was sleeping. What you saw…. well you didn’t expect this  
  
Balls

Hundreds (and perhaps thousands) of plastic balls, the kind for a kid’s ball pit, of so many colours, up to your knees. Thankfully, a piece of mesh had been stretched out in the door way, or they would have spilled out like an avalanche of rainbow doom. And in the middle of what had been the bedroom floor?  
  
 _Dante._

_Completely naked._

Well, you were PRETTY sure he was naked, as he was conveniently in a position that hid your favourite parts of him underneath the multi coloured collage. A big grin was on his face, as was a rose in his teeth, like he was some crazed tango dancer.

“Welcome home babe! Thought I’d surprise you!”

“Dante, what is this? Where the hell did you get all of these?”

“Oh” he shrugged nonchalantly, as he pulled the rose out of his teeth, and placed it on the nightstand, “You know the party store uptown? Well, they’re moving, and they had a huge sale on their stuff, including all of these. I only paid twenty bucks for the whole bag!” He seemed very pleased with himself, as if he had just come home with a new Devils arm. 

His grin deepened, and he asked smoothly, “So…. do you want to play with my balls?”

Grumbling good-naturedly about how ‘He was lucky you found his idiocy adorable’ you jumped in, determined to see how naked he truly was…


	3. The Scent.... Vergil x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot of headcanons of the Sparda boys being able to smell that their s/o is pregnant, often before she is.  
> What if...  
> Before DMC3, Vergil smells it on Nero’s mom, and being young and dumb, doesn’t know what it means but it pushes him to seek more power... for a reason he can’t convey. So he leaves her. Only at the end of DMC5 does he understand what it meant.  
> Fast forward, and he’s with his s/o, and he gets a whiff of that smell again. He panics, but this time, there will be no running. He has all the power he needs. He has his family.
> 
> So, I couldn't get the idea out of my head, so here we are.

The lights of Fortuna sparkle, rivaling the stars, as he looks out from the balcony. Here and there, he can see the shadows of statues of what these islanders call the Savior. A lay man may refer to the term, Sparda. But to Vergil…he has a different term for him. ****

_Father_

He came to this island seeking secrets and knowledge, and while he’s been disappointed on both fronts, it hasn’t been completely fruitless.

His main enjoyment on this secluded island, the closest he’s ever been to being relaxed, shuffles around on the bed behind him, murmuring in her sleep. He’s hung up her red dress on the closet hanger so it will not get wrinkled and draw stares and whispers among the judgmental populace.

He’s still not sure what caused them to attract each other. Her? Perhaps the excitement of a mainlander, someone not bound by outdated traditional morals, someone who sees her not as a potential housewife, but as a woman.

And for him? It’s not because he feels urges. It’s not because her smile lit up something in him. And it’s definitely not because he’s desperately, achingly lonely.

Her hands pad his side of the bed, and finding it empty, sleepily she calls out for him.

“Vergil? Are you coming back to bed? Is something wrong?”

Which leads him to something that has bothered him. For the past few days, she has smelled different. Her scent, which he associates with the flowers at the shop she works at, has changed, an extra note of je ne sais quois that follows her everywhere. To her workplace, the coffee shop, and even the bedroom. At first, he thought it was a perfume she used, but it’s so faint, so indetectable save to his demonic senses, that it’s doubtful she is even aware of it. It’s not unpleasant, far from it, but it does conjure up some thoughts that make him feel uncomfortable.

Thoughts of protection. Of how he needs more power. Of without it, he cannot protect anyone, least of all himself. The urge to seek it out is overpowering, almost primal. Looking at her, he does not feel nervousness. There is no hesitance. And there is definitely no fear. Those were burnt out of him a decade ago. No, he must move on, to keep moving on his quest for power.

“I cannot. I have been summoned by my associate back to the mainland.” He lies as he puts on his coat, and attaches his most trusted companion to his belt. “Do not look for my return.” And yet, even as he gives her a long deep farewell kiss, his mind cannot stop thinking about the scent and the emotions it conjures.

Only a quarter century later, after decades of agony, humiliation, and near death, does he truly understand what that scent meant.

He realizes it as he looks into the anguished brilliant blue eyes of his son.

It’s been several years since the Qliphoth, and Vergil is seemingly at ease with his new life. But there are a few snags, a few things he still cannot comprehend that have been given to him.

The easiest to understand is Dante. They are twins after all, so their bond has been there since they both shared the same womb. It makes sense that despite everything, Dante, the brash, wear-his-heart-on-his-sleeve, social man, would want to keep his brother close to him. It was Vergil who had been too blind, too stubborn to see it. Although, he will never admit it to his younger twin, he does still have his pride.

Stranger yet is Nero. The son he abandoned, attacked, and manipulated for his own benefit. Unlike Dante, the young man owes him nothing except his hatred and contempt. And yet Nero, despite everything, wants to continue growing his relationship with his newfound father. There have been steps backwards of course, ill-timed words said in the heat of the moment, accusations that he cannot defend against, but both of them continue to work, to build something that Vergil never expected he would ever have.

Most surprisingly of all his gifts you. His brother and son at least have the excuse of blood ties to build on, but you?

He first met you on a job, a fellow demon hunter introduced by Dante, and because of his brother’s recommendation (or despite of it) you’d hit it off with him. You both had similar interests, enjoyed going out for quiet nights of tea and book readings. He taught you the way of the sword, you taught him how to heal his fractured soul, you two had grown from a partnership, to friendship, to something more.

At Dante’s urging, he’d slowly, at his own pace told you of his past, of his multiple failings, and yet, knowing what monstrous things he had done, you’d merely responded that “You can’t unbreak a ceramic bowl, Vergil, but you can collect the pieces, and with time and care, remake it into something new. Dante and Nero want to help, and I would like to as well, if you’re willing.” 

And you had done that and more, he muses as you both sit in front of the fireplace, basking in the heat of the flames, and each other’s presence. Neither of you speak, your head resting on his shoulder. Aside from the popping of the burning logs, all is silent.

And then, out of nowhere, the scent, like a spirit of the past wafts in. It smells less of flowers and tropical beaches, more like the smell of gunpowder and worn leather, but the same base note is there. And this time he knows the meaning of it, his demonic knowledge knows that you are carrying his child.

He stiffens, long dormant thoughts springing out of the mists of time. H _e’s not strong enough, he needs more power, to protect you, to protect the seed that is growing inside of you. He’s weak, a danger to you both, he needs to run._

But this time, he stands firm. He will not make the same mistake as last time. He has his brother, his son, and you. He is not alone, he has a family, and that is all the power he needs.

Even as he relaxes, you notice. You may not have his senses, but you’re as observant as a human can be.

“Vergil, is something wrong?”

He smiles, and kisses the brow of your head. He will let you find out on your own. And when you do, he will by your side the entire time.

“Nothing is wrong, my love.”


	4. It's a Date (Dante x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been ghosted by the man you thought you had a connection with. And now you're stuck by yourself in a restaurant, all yourself. Based off a Tumblr prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You’re not going to cry,_ you tell yourself. There’s a tonne of reasons you shouldn’t. Your makeup, that you spent a good half hour applying, will get smeared. Your dress, which you had spent days picking out the cutest ensemble, will get ruined by tears.

And you definitely don’t want the patrons and waitstaff of an out of the way cozy restaurant you’d heard rave reviews about to see you blubbering like a beached whale.

“Pardon me miss, would you like to order now?” The waiter asks, the concern on his face now slipping past his professional veneer.

You fake a smile, “Just more water please, he shouldn’t be much longer.” A lie, and he knows it, the patrons giving you pitiful glances know it, and worst of all, **you know it.**

But, whether out of denial, or a vain attempt to prolong the charade, you make a great show of picking up your phone and checking your texts.

  
**5:32 PM:** _Hey there, I’m at Figaroni’s now. A bit early, so I’ll just reserve us a table. Can’t wait to see you!_

**5:56 PM:** _Still waiting! Are you lost? It’s kinda out of the way, if you need directions, I can send them to you._

**6:22 PM:** _Could you please text me? I just want to know if something came up, and you can’t make it. I’m not upset, just worried._

And underneath each text is the cold line: **_READ._ **

You scroll through your social media, attempting to see where he might be. You had been so excited for tonight, your first and second dates had gone so well, you thought this one would be the one that would make you two an official couple. But now, posted just a few minutes ago, is a pic of him and a few friends at the bar, taking a group selfie, with the caption. 

_Bored, so went out to hang out with the buddies, gonna wake up with a horrible hangover for work but... #YOLO_

You quickly turn your phone off, trying to pretend you hadn’t seen it. He was just running late, that’s it. It couldn’t be that he had just ghosted you and the date, so he could hang out with his buddies. No, because that would mean you’d dressed up, primped up, and got all excited...for nothing. And if it was for nothing, you had just been made a fool, a goddamn lovesick fool, all in front of everyone. If you broke down now, you’d just confirm what they thought. The best thing to do was to leave the waiter a nice tip for dealing with your behaviour, and run out of the restaurant, and try to not think about the conversations they’ll have about you.

But you’re just frozen on the spot, knowing that the moment you stand up, you’ve accepted to yourself that you’ve been strung along, treated like the fool that you are, and you can’t just handle it. You’re between a rock and a hard place, emotionally. The tears spill out…

“Hey, sorry about being late, babe traffic was absolutely disgusting!” 

A man sits down in front of you, and for the briefest moment, your heart leaps out of your chest hoping that you had been wrong, your boyfriend just posted a photo of an old party he went to a week or so ago. But then, your heart falls. It’s not him, in fact, it’s nothing like him. He’s wearing a red leather coat, a casual shirt with what you hope aren’t blood stains on it, and worn fingerless gloves. He looks completely out of place in this restaurant, and yet as you look through his silver white bangs into his blue eyes, he feels like he’s meant to sit in front of you all along.

But still, you’re emotionally guarded. You don’t know this guy, never ever seen him in your life, and for all you know, he could be just out for a free meal, under the guise of pretending to be your absent boyfriend.

He notices your shocked expression, peeks around the nearby tables and then lowers his voice. 

“Name’s Dante. I couldn’t see a pretty lil’ thing like you looking so sad and alone, so I decided to fix that. So, let’s just play it by ear.”

You want to say something, but then the waiter comes up, looking rather relieved, and asks you if you’re ready to order. Despite having nearly an hour to peruse the menu, the sudden appearance of this man has thrown you off.

“I’ll have the Pizza Prosciutto e Funghi” he says, his pronunciation perfect, not even looking over the menu. 

The waiter nods, “Would you like it cooked your usual way, sir?” 

Dante smiles, and winks at you, “Extra crispy? You bet.”

The waiter turns to you, and you barely are able to blurt out what you would like, your voice cracking, your carefully prepared pronunciation mangled. Neither the waiter, with his professionalism, nor your replacement date seems to notice. The man does a bow and turns toward the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about paying,” your mysterious saviour says as he pulls out some bills from his coat pocket. “Got paid today, and I have time to spend it before my brother starts complaining about what I do with it. So,” he says as he reaches out for a piece of bread out of the basket, “Let’s get to know each other.”

So over pizza and pasta, you and him traded your backgrounds. You had told him about your job, your family life, your interests. And unlike the guy he replaced, he listens intently, never interrupting, unless it was to ask for more info about something you said. And as you spoke, the pain, the self consciousness melted off of you. By the time you started asking him, as he wolfed down yet another slice, about his life, you had felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“I work for myself, it’s actually just become a family business.” He says, as he wipes his face and hands off with the napkin. “My nephew runs a mobile branch, smart kid, runs it better than I run my own business.” His smile deepens as he reminisces, and his eyes seem to sparkle more in the candlelight. “My brother recently joined too, and although he can be a pain in the ass…” for one brief moment, a flash of regret passes over his face, before it's replaced back by his beautiful smile, “but I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for having him back.” In the now dim evening light, you no longer notice his out of place clothes, his face is all that matters, from the whiskers on his chin, to that mane of white hair that you have to resist the urge to reach over and run your hands through. So engrossed in him, you’re actually a bit startled when the waiter comes to take your empty plates away.

“Try the strawberry gelato,” Dante suggests, “They make it right here, and it’s to die for.” 

His eyes light up at your expression as you try the delicious concoction, “There, that’s what I like to see, a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be made to cry.” He grins as he sneaks a spoonful of your dessert, “Don’t know what the douchebag thought was more important than spending time with you, but trust me, it wasn’t worth it by a long shot.” You silently thank the candlelight for hiding your rapidly growing blush.

He pays the bill, leaving a hefty tip, (and compliments the waiter and the chef, you notice) and helps you put on your coat before escorting you outside.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you walk to your car. It’s such a meager word to express what he’s done for you. The dinner was the smallest bit, it was the way he saved you from social embarrassment, and turned a mortifying situation into an experience that you would treasure for a lifetime. Your only regret is that this will be a one time thing. You shouldn’t get your hopes up, he only did it because he pitie-

“Here,” he smiles as he hands you a piece of credit card sized paper. “I know it’s my business card, but it’s also my home phone number. Call, and just ask to speak to Dante and say the password. I’d love to do this again, if you want. I know this place that makes some mouthwatering burgers…”

And with that, he walks off to his bike, hops on, and with a click of his tongue and a dashing smile, he pulls out with a squeal of tires into the night.

Only when he’s out of sight, do you read the card with trembling hands in the dim light of a nearby streetlamp.

**_Devil May Cry_ **

And written hastily on the bottom, is a messy scrawl of words:

**_Password: It’s a date._ **


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F!reader x Vergil, where Reader says both of the words to Vergil. Kill me with fluff muzz like how you kill me with angst.
> 
> “You’re really warm.”  
> “Can I stay here tonight?”
> 
> Thanks for the prompt Lachesissora!

Vergil cursed himself, as he carried your shivering body through the portal. He should have known that the ice wave was aimed for you. He should have known that Frosts were about to show up in that area. He SHOULD have known that taking you along was an error of judgement. HIS error of judgement. And now you would pay the price for his mistakes.  
“You’re thinking too hard” You murmured between chattering teeth.   
“Silence” he said, with no venom. The fact that you were still coherent to make a joke at his expense was a good sign, (although, if his brother with the single brain cell was able to do that on a regular basis, the bar was incredibly low), and he was slightly relieved. When he had first picked you up, you had been so cold, he had immediately feared the worst.

But, your heartbeat was still there, and thankfully you were still breathing, if the puffs of fog indicated. Without warning, without even telling his son or brother, only hearing Dante yelling _“Oh come on, you’re gonna strand us here!?”_ as the portal sealed shut. Vergil did not care. The two of them, with hot demon blood racing through their veins, were more than immune to the chilling effects and were more than capable to deal with the threat. You, on the other hand, with your weak human constitution, would quickly succumb to the cold. He wasn’t familiar with first aid, but he knew that he needed to warm you up, and quickly. He could deal with his brother’s complaining later.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he nearly kicked the bathroom off its hinges with his foot as he carried you inside. You needed a warm bath, but…he looked down at you, nearly dozing off in his arms (Not a good sign, he knew that at least), he was somewhat hesitant. You and him were close…but not that close, regardless of the insinuations Dante would constantly quip.

He pondered as he slowly let you down and turned on the bathtub faucet, what to do. You needed to get warm, and fast. But undressing you… even with your life in the balance, his sense of honour dictated that seeing you unclothed, without your consent, he hesitated.

Perhaps… he could find a possible way around this. After the water filled up as far as it was safe, he picked up your nearly unconscious for, and after a murmured apology, he gently placed you into the tub, clothes and all. At the very least, the warm water would not be a shock to your system.

Still, as you came to, you weren’t that happy.

“Vergil…” you asked confused, “what in the hell” you looked down as your sweater, now almost double its original size.

“You were suffering from hypothermia” he explained, as confidently as he could. “I deemed that it was necessary to get you into a warm situation as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, but my clothes and all?” 

“You were beginning to drift off, time was of the essence.” Yes, that would be his official reason. “How are you feeling?”

“Better” you smiled at him, “I can feel my toes again,” and as if to show off you wiggled your feet, barely visible underneath the soaked shoes you wore. “Really Vergil, my new shoes!? You could have at least taken them off. I’m billing you for this,” you chuckled.

You seemed a lot better, with your sense of humour intact, so he thought it was alright to leave you alone while he fetched fresh towels (from his stash, he never would allow you to be forced to use his brother’s), and after a bit of hesitation, he chose his own bathrobe. 

You were already out of the tub when he came back, and were in the process of struggling to get off your shirt, revealing a lot more skin that he had expected. Hurriedly, he placed the towels down, and left, before you had even noticed his arrival.

He tried to take his mind off your nearly topless visage, but that led to the thing that caused this whole situation. He should have been more alert, more cautious… more protective. He sat down on his bed, head in his hands. What would have happened if he hadn’t gotten you out of there in time? What would happen the next time you went on a mission without him, or went solo. The very thought of you laying alone, injured…

“Hey,”

He looked up to see you leaning on the doorframe. You were wrapped up in a bathrobe that was comically too big for you, but there was a look of concern on your face.

“You okay?”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“I’m fine, wrung out my clothes as best as I could, and hung them up on the shower rod, hopefully they don’t drip too much.” You cocked your head, “May I come in?”

Vergil nodded, and you took a seat beside him, your hand interlacing with his.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, as if afraid to break the silence, “I know I was really snarky about it earlier, but I am truthfully grateful. I shouldn’t have been so dumb and got got up in that attack, I’ve fought dozens of those things, and they’re all so predictable.”

“It’s not your fault, the fau-” but he was cut off by your finger on his lips.

“Now now, remember what I said about things we can’t control, besides,” you wrapped your arms around him, “It’s how you responded that’s important.” Hesitatingly embraced you, pulling you closer to his chest.

**_“You’re really warm.”_ **

“Pardon?”

“When you were carrying me out of there, I felt like I was drifting off, even though some part of my brain told me that was the worst thing I could do. But being held so close,” you snuggled deeper into his chest, “I could feel your warmth, and I clung to it like a lifeline. It possibly was the only thing keeping me going…well, until you dumped me into the bath.” He could feel a faint breath of a chuckle, followed by a suppressed yawn.   
“Tired?” he asked, just the slight worry that the hypothermia hadn’t gone away.  
“A bit…” you admitted, “and seeing as I have no dry clothes at the moment…”

**_“Can I stay here tonight?”_ **

Silently, he leaned back, pulling you gently onto the bed, arranging it so that you had to move as little as possible, your head resting on his chest. It was a good arrangement, he could monitor your condition, and you can enjoy the ‘warmth’ of his body. 

_“Thank you, Vergil”_ you whispered tiredly, and he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. Surprisingly, it didn’t take HIM long for him to fall asleep either, each of you lulled to sleep by each other’s warmth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **celestia-kitsune-of-the-forest asked:**
> 
> Ooo time to break some hearts. Can you maybe do Angst with an insecure reader saying that to Nero? And fluff cause I need some fluff after my angst... I fully admit that I am a baby who can't handle angst without a happy ending
> 
> **_“Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”_ **
> 
> **_“I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Note: First time I’ve ever written Nero x Reader, as I love the canon couple. Nothing against people who like Nero x Reader, there’s a sad lack of content. In this case, just pretend you’ve taken Kyrie’s place in the DMC timeline_

In hindsight, having a full-sized mirror in your bedroom had been a mistake. Going to the mall today had been a mistake, seeing that beautiful green dress in the store window was a mistake, and asking the saleswoman if you could try it on was a mistake.

_“I’m so sorry, sweetheart”_ she had said in sympathy, “ _We only carry that dress in our regular adult sizes, not our plus sizes.”_

But your biggest mistake was to insist on trying it on, and watching her hesitate before finally sighing in resignation as she led you and the dress into the dressing room. 

You stood there, topless in the cool air, inane music playing over the speakers, looking at your body in the mirror, and began to have second thoughts. But why make a half a mistake when the full one was right there, still hanging off the hanger?

So, you attempted to put it on, and then did a spin. Maybe it was the harsh light, but the dress didn’t look good on you half as well as it did on the mannequin. 

You stepped out of the dressing room, eager to get a second opinion, and came face to face with the saleslady, who could barely conceal the embarrassment you should have been feeling.

_“I… don’t think that size works for you,”_ she apologised, before attempting to salvage the situation, _“On Tuesday, we get our new shipments, there might be more plus size versions of the dress, I can give you a call when they arrive!”_ You declined the offer with a stuttered voice, and then ripped pulled off the dress, put back on your regular ~~frumpy, bulky, potato sack like~~ hoodie, and made a quick exit, swearing you could hear the tittering of the the saleswoman gossiping about you to her coworker.

And now, you stood there, in your bra and panties, forcing yourself to look at your body. The droopy wings on your arms, your protruding tummy, lumpy butt, and flabby thighs. You were a disgusting sack of flesh, and you were a fool to not realize it. Why anyone, especially your boyfriend, wanted to do anything with you, was unexplainable. 

The ~~pudgy, stubby~~ fingers clenched into a fist, and you were prepared to destroy the damn mirror, no matter how much it would hurt.

“Hey babe, got back from my job, you WOULDN’T believe what my uncle got us into, let’s just say I’m never going to look at a balloon animal the same way again. We-”

When did Nero show up? You hadn’t heard him come in, maybe his father had created a portal for him directly into your house. (He had done that once, while you and Nero were… getting busy, and Nero had ripped his father a new one. Apparently Fortuna had way more swear words than you thought.)

“You okay?” he asked, immediately sensing your distress. How could he not? How could he not notice he was dating a fat slobby whale impersonating a woman?

“Why do you even like me, knowing how I look?” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible. You didn’t want to scare him off with an emotional breakdown. “Why do you even stay with me?”

“Babe…”

You cut him off, even now, you couldn’t handle the truth, coward that you were.

_**“Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”** _

You waited for him to compose a lie, to think about how to phrase it, but you hadn’t expected strong warm arms around you. You looked back at the mirror, surprised at how tightly he held you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, “and I love every part of you,” his hand stroked your cheek, “From your beautiful face,” his hand drifted down to your bosom, “to your soft, tender body,” lower still, to places that stirred sensations in you, “all the way to your toes. I love each and every part of you. And you know what?”

“What?” you asked brokenly, his words, even if they were false, still had an effect.

“None of what I said was a lie, you are the most beautiful woman I know, and what’s even more amazing,” his hand went back up to your breast, but not in a sexual way, “your heart. Remember back when I was attacked in the garage, had my arm ripped away? I was all depressed in the hospital, thinking I would just be a burden to you, that you deserved somebody better, somebody whole. But you never left, always supported me, even after I went on a nearly suicidal rampage to kick that guy’s ass.”

“And in the end, kicked your dad’s ass” you giggled between sniffles.

“Yeah...but that’s not the point. The point is, at my lowest part of my life, you never left me. So…”

He gave you a kiss, and in the reflection you saw not your flabby self, but a beautiful young couple, full of hope and love. And not a single mistake between the two of them

_**“I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”** _

**Author's Note:**

> Want to submit a prompt? An idea? 
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr!
> 
> https://queenmuzz.tumblr.com/
> 
> While I'm not averse to the more steamy stuff, it doesn't come naturally to me.


End file.
